


Brace Brace

by KirkyPet



Series: The Shipping Forecast [12]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Major Character Injury, Medical Procedures, Nightmares, Peril, Pregnancy, Returning Home, Was that a post-apocalyptic marriage vow?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 19:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11675895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirkyPet/pseuds/KirkyPet
Summary: Love is a hazardous pastime. We strongly recommend specialist insurance.





	Brace Brace

Home again…and they’ve both called it   _home,_ more than once…with the promise and reality of more family than she’d ever dreamed of since she was a kid. These were her waking thoughts…  

Her   _father_ was here. And she and Max were…hopefully…going to have a baby.  

And with the distant hope of a new Green Place getting ever closer…  

…everything seemed to whisper hope for the future, for all of them.  

*  

Her worst fears had been dissipated on the way back to the Citadel.  

She’d told him in a torrent of words that she hadn’t   _thought,_ she hadn’t meant to trap him. It was the  Vuvalini  way…the community they lived in…if they were with a man they liked, and a baby was the result…it didn’t mean they had to   _pair_ …  

She’d been so caught up with this new experience…with   _him_ …that she didn’t think of the consequences…what it might do to him…how fucking   _selfish_ …  

It was with an effort that he could check her tirade of self-reproach enough to get a word in.  

“Look…stop…it’s   _okay_ …” He took her face between his hands. “ _Look at me._ We’re   _both_   good at protecting ourselves, right?”   

She blinked, nodded. Couldn’t argue with that. They both knew their weaknesses, and could spot danger before it could touch them. They’d turned survival into an art.  

He’d prepared himself for this…  

“So it’ll be okay…nobody’s fault but my own if it isn’t.”  

*  

They had the best of both worlds. They were home again, yes, but the freedom of the Road lingered on.  

Their work done, they would still pile into the Interceptor, giggling like kids, to drive out beyond the view of the Citadel’s Lookout. Besides, there was   _way_ more  room in the back again now they’d unloaded their haul.  

Furiosa  drove, while Max leaned back in the passenger seat, taking in the view. She glanced sideways at him now and then, with a knowing smile.  

Pulling up in a shady spot, she wasted no time in clambering into his lap.  

“Thought you’d like a closer look.”  

“…hmm?” Max sounded distracted.  

“They _have_ got a bit bigger, right…?”  

From where he was sitting, Max could hardly feign ignorance of what she was getting at. But still…  

“Hadn’t noticed…” he glanced up at her face briefly, eyes innocently wide.  

“Liar.”  

*  

Afterwards…  

“Can’t sleep in the car forever, though…”  

She groaned and ran her fingers lightly over the fine hair on his stomach. “But it’s   _so nice_ …”   

“Not much room as it is…it’ll be a bit tight for a third…” Max swatted her tickling hand and rolled over carefully onto his side to face her.  

“Yeah” Furiosa  chuckled, remembering how she’d hit her head on the ceiling. 

“Get a room somewhere?”   

“Mmm” she smiled and kissed him. That was one of the things she’d been running away from, but then…everything was so different now. Time to face old demons. That’s what Max was doing, after all. She took a deep breath. Besides, time to grow up. Quit messing about. Got responsibilities now.  

“There’s always my old room…in the meantime? Till we find a new one.” She sighed and sprawled on her back, looking up at the ceiling. “And Ace had a point…”  

“Yeah?”  

“About me taking it easier. He had a word the other day. And I   _know_   you’ve been thinking it.”  

Max grunted noncommittally, made that one-shoulder shrug, which she translated as a resounding yes.   _Hopefully this’ll stop him worrying,_   she thought, leaning in to rest her brow against his.  

*  

Furiosa always suspected that she had a stubborn streak, and the last few weeks had confirmed it…  

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that it would be Ace’s words that hit the mark. They usually did, eventually. But she thought he would have been well outside of his comfort zone in this case.  

“I dunno much about  havin' babies, Boss, but I don't think you should be  heftin' that box” Ace rumbled, after watching her for a while.  

Furiosa  stopped shoving and sighed.   

“Not you too…I get enough nagging from the women. I thought I'd be safe from it   _here.”_   

Ace frowned. “There's folks out there as don't have a choice on’t.   _Have_   to keep on  sweatin' even when they can barely see their feet...my mum was one of ‘em. Lost four babies after me. She was sound, too. But it's your choice, o’course…”  

Ace had never told her that he’d had a mother…  

*  

So she didn't join the Boys on patrol duty the next day, or the day after that.   

She wasn’t with Max when he got shot.  

*  

No, she was up on the terraces, wandering along the rows of beans, dreaming of Green Places past, present and future.  

She was smiling when a flash caught her eye, then another. She stared.   

 _…urgent…medical…_   

Furiosa  ran down a flight of stone steps to the Lookout, where she almost collided with a Boy who was barrelling out the door.   

 _Who…? Who is it?_   

She ran in. Toast was on the scope, and spun round with an expression of…it looked like guilt. She looked sick.  

“Furi…” Toast stepped towards her. “It’ll be alright…”  

“Max…?”   

 _Anyone else, say it’s anyone else, I don’t care who…_   

“Yeah, but…”   

Furiosa  couldn’t follow what the girl said next…she felt a prickling sensation, her arms and legs felt cold, her   _head_   felt cold. She slumped to her knees. Either that or fall.  

Toast was by her in a second. “Oh, don’t   _you_   get sick now…come on  Furi, snap out of it. He’s going to be alright, I   _know_   he is. It’s Max,  _right_ …?”  

*  

Max almost laughed when he felt the bullet hit.  

He’d hoped, he’d begged with God or Fate or whoever might be there to hear. He’d pleaded that   _it would be different this time._   

Be careful what you ask for.  

Someone had a fucked-up sense of humour. Different this time, can’t deny it.   _He would be the one to leave them._   

*  

“Hold him down! Max, I need you to keep still…”  

 _“Need t’say…”_   

“Can’t we sedate him?”  

 _“…say g’bye…”_   

“Oh god, this is too much…No, got to keep him conscious. Keep pressure on it…I’ll get the sutures…”  

“How you going to stitch when he’s like this…? Max, stop…! You’re going to be okay.”  

 _“Dying…got…”_   

Capable waved her free hand helplessly. What could she do? She couldn’t   _slap_   him…Phyllis would be furious. He’d been shot in the neck, after all. But he probably   _would_   bleed out if she couldn’t find a way to calm him down. In despair, she grabbed his nose and squeezed. Max made an outraged squawk and stopped moving. He blinked up at her, his eyes awash with tears.  

“Oh, Max…I’m sorry. But you’re okay,   _I promise_. The bullet went clean through…doesn’t look like it hit anything vital.”  

“Don’t wanna die…” he gasped.  

“Well, you won’t today. Will you keep still now? Don’t nod.”  

“’Ssss”  

“Good. Furi's  on her way, and you don’t want her to see you like this. Think of the baby…”  

Max rolled his eyes towards her in pitiful incredulity.   _What else could he have been thinking of?_   Then he remembered  Nux and his retort died in his throat.  

“Sorry…for…freaking out” he wheezed between shallow breaths.  

“Sorry I grabbed your nose…okay, here’s  Phyl to stitch you up.”  

Capable went off into the side room, where she sat down and took several deep breaths. That had been a close one. Max had been incredibly lucky. And so had Furi…  

*  

When she returned,  Furiosa was there, hovering uncertainly nearby, pale as ash. When Phyllis finished her examination,  Furi  edged forward and sat by him, stroking his face wonderingly.  

“Thought you were gone…” she whispered, barely audible.  

“No…c’mon” Max gripped her shaking hand and kissed it. “Shhh...”  

Capable didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She darted out of the room and opted for the latter when she was sure she was out of earshot.  

They found her later in the gardens, explaining manifest destiny to little  Nux  while he crowed in delight, kicking his feet.  

*  

Phyllis was a tough woman, she knew it. One of the three surviving born Vuvalini, there wasn’t much that she wouldn’t do to keep moving. But she really hated having to perform life-or-death surgery on her loved ones. She had a tendency to freeze up.  

She supposed she was grateful to   _have_   loved ones. Unlike Nan, poor girl. She was a surgeon to the bone, that one, something else Phyllis was grateful for. Especially when the Boys carried Max in, bloody from a neck wound and frantic in the certainty it had killed him.  

She’d seen plenty of gunshot wounds to the neck and, almost always, most of the work went into cleaning up afterwards. If they didn’t bleed out violently, they’d usually incurred too much neurological damage to survive. The worst was when there was a   _chance_. When the bullet was still in there and   _if only_   they could get it out without killing the patient in the process…  

Thank the Mothers for Nan. Nothing could faze her, with her steady hand and unblinking eyes that would never turn away, even for a second, from the worst of wounds. Phyllis would need Nan’s help today.  

But yet she didn’t…it was unbelievable. Whatever had hit Max had gone clean through him, no yaw…no cavitation, no ripping tearing death. Strong carotid pulse, no airway obstruction, no haematoma.   

She could  _see_  this and could barely believe it. No wonder the boy had taken some persuading.  

Once the panic was over and Max was resting, the Boys gave  Furiosa  and Phyllis their report.  

Max had gone ahead to strip a vehicle after they’d put down a Buzzard raid. Caleb and  Dek  were about ten paces away when Max jolted to a halt and staggered. They didn’t know what hit him, didn’t even hear the report of a gun. Maybe a crossbow bolt…?  

They hadn’t stopped to look around, just bundled him into their fastest vehicle and sped hell for leather back to the Citadel.   

Phyllis knew enough about War Boy culture by now to appreciate the significance of this. Time was, they’d have just yelled ‘ _Witness_ ’ and run off to avenge their fallen comrade. She was glad the new philosophy was becoming as much practice as theory. Looked like  Furi  knew that better than anyone. The Boys looked scared enough, but they didn’t need to worry about getting into trouble with the Boss.  

“Was he conscious?” Phyllis asked them. “Was he breathing normally? Could he speak?”  

“Yeah…wasn’t making much sense, though. Could breathe   _okay_   I think, but was…y’know…freakin’ out a bit. That didn’t help.”  

“Taggy  asked him lots of questions…had to keep him awake, he said.”  

“We kept  talkin’ to him. When we ran outta ideas, we sang Caleb’s song, bits we could remember anyways.”   

“You did right.” Phyllis nodded at them approvingly. The  neuro  exam had been hopeful too. Normal response to light. Max could tell her what he’d had for breakfast _…something mushy, nice. And a crunchy thing_ …and what he’d planned for tomorrow. Move into  Furi's  old room, apparently. Phyllis nearly choked up a little at this.   

Phyllis tested his grip strength _…_ _yahhh_ _, you’re fine,_ she’dyelped, shaking her crushed fingers. She got a couple of Boys to act as resistance for Max to push his legs against. Also fine.   

Nan was delighted. “Prob’ly  won’t need to decompress his spinal cord after all!” she beamed with her weird white eyes. “As long as tetanus doesn’t get him, he’ll be home and dry.”  

Phyllis asked him to stay in the infirmary for a few days for observation. Especially since it’d be hard to match blood for him. Phyllis always felt the ABO system was a bit of a sick joke. If she had any say in the matter, universal donors would also be universal recipients. But she didn’t make the rules.  

Expecting resistance, she was pleasantly surprised to receive none. She was glad to see the boy finally getting some sense of self-preservation. While Phyllis washed, dried and dressed his wound,  Furi  dragged in a bedroll for herself, clearly planning to stop for the duration. It’d be good to have someone keeping a proper eye on him, to wake him at intervals, ask questions to check he’s thinking clearly.  

*  

The next few nights pass without complications. Max sleeps, breathes well enough, wakes when prodded, grumpily answers questions and obligingly shows no immediate signs of infection.  

Eventually Phyllis agrees to let him leave on the condition that they   _do not sleep in the car_.   

“Got to keep him comfortable, right? No awkward positions…”  she mumbled, leafing through the  Book. “Don’t  want to get his neck in a kink...”   

Max made a kind of high-pitched grunt which  Furiosa interpreted as   _Seriously? Even now?_ but Phyllis, bless her, was innocent of innuendo for once.  

“What should we keep a lookout for?” Furiosa  asked. “Anything in particular?”  

Phyllis had finally found what she’d been looking for…the short section entitled ‘Complications of Penetrating Neck Injury’.  

“Hmmm…says here…”   

 _Long pause. Ominous._   

“Well? Don’t keep me hanging,  Phyl…”  

“Um, well…be careful swallowing. Maybe more likely to choke on food or water. Might be a bit wheezy, short of breath for a while.”  

“Okay.” Furiosa  nodded. “Anything else?”  

“Voice might be affected. Could be harder to speak normally. That’s your singing career over, lad. Sorry.”  

Max sighed resignedly. He’d never hear the end of this when it got out. The Boys’ brand of gallows humour simply wouldn’t allow it.  

“That’s not too bad. Thought it’d be worse…” Furiosa  murmured.  

“And, obviously, keep an eye out for signs of infection. Fever, the usual.”  

“Sure.” Furiosa  nodded.   

Infection was the boogeyman in the Wasteland, you’d die just from worrying about it.  

Which was why Phyllis hadn’t gone into detail. Those kids didn’t need to have the words   _catastrophic neurological deficits_ emblazoned on their imagination. She wished she could scrub away the image herself. Just file it under   _infection_   and be done.  

*  

When Max and  Furiosa  move into her room, it’s the first time he's really   _been_   there, apart from a quick glance. And there have been a lot of changes since the last time   _she_   slept there, to say the least.  

He's so unused to sleeping in a bed that she pulls the blanket off and they curl up on the floor.   

The second night they try out the bed and end up talking till dawn.  

The third night they're both out like a light moments after flopping down on the lumpy mattress.  

On the fourth night…  

*  

Furiosa  thought of the lives she could have led.   

Of growing to womanhood in the Green Place, of friends and lovers. Of seeing her home sour, sicken and wither, taking those she loved with it.  

Of failure, of succumbing to the unspeakable fate she'd fought to avoid. Of violation, rage and despair.   

But instead, here she lay. On an Imperator’s bed, her head on her chosen lover’s chest and her right leg draped over him as he stroked her hair. The gentle swell of her belly that was just beginning to make its presence felt.  

Nothing to fear now but losing him and the others she'd begun to love… _is that all?_   

 _But she loved him best_ , she thought, her breath catching strangely as she kissed his chest, her leg wrapping round him, unconsciously pulling him closer. Her hand accidentally moved lower, and she drew it away guiltily.  

“You won’t hurt me, y’know.” he murmured into her hair. “If you want to…”  

Furiosa  smiled, despite herself. “Don’t know if you can be trusted to make that decision…”  

“You’re not going to go get  Phyl's  opinion, are you…?” he asked, doubtfully.  

“She did say I should keep you comfortable. Aren’t you comfortable?” she asked, innocently.  

Max shifted slightly and cleared his throat a little. “Not entirely…”  

“Only if you’re   _really_   sure.”  

*  

And she did love him. Within the hour she would tell him so, as he made the stars spin for her…the first time under the Citadel’s roof. She hadn’t meant to…and, besides, it was barely audible. Just a whisper in those few seconds of euphoria where there are no consequences…  

 _Shit_   

She didn’t even know for sure if she’d said it out loud. He didn’t make any signs that he’d heard…okay, he was lying very still, breathing a bit oddly, but that could be him protecting his healing wounds. And if the blood had been rushing in his ears as loudly as it’d been in hers, he probably hadn’t caught it…  

But what was it her mother had warned her about unfinished sentences? She’d always said it like she was quoting from somewhere…  

 _‘Never leave a sentence unfinished…it shows you have the wish without the power to conceal your sentiments.’_   

Or, put more simply…doing a half-assed job is worse than not starting it at all. She took a breath…  

*  

“I love you, Max. But you   _know_   that, right?”  

She  heard his intake of  breath and  turned her head to look  at him. His  brow  was  creased in  what looked like confusion in the low light.  

“You know that?” she whispered, anxiously.  

He nodded, very slightly.  

She let out the breath she didn't realise she was holding. That was all she needed to know. She buried her face in his chest and brushed her fingers over his lips in the semi-darkness to keep the words in… _don’t say it, please don’t..._ she felt a wetness on his cheek.   

“…love… _you”_   he whispered.   

*  

 _Furiosa  dropped a butterfly kiss on his cold lips. They’d cleaned him up, he looked almost peaceful. She knew better than that. There would_ _be no peace for either of them, not now..._  

She woke with a sob and rested her forehead against his broad back. Tried to regulate her breathing, to ground  herself. Here he was, not gone. Warm and breathing. She laid her palm on his chest to feel his heart beat  and Max, sleeping still, grasped her hand in his.  

*  

“How can you   _stand_   it, though?”  

Max made no immediate response to this cryptic question…understandable really, though it riled her in her current state of mind.  

“ _This_ …”  Furiosa  waved her hand comprehensively. “This… _thing_. It can only end in   _death_.”   

The end of the sentence was barely audible, for two reasons. One, that her head had dropped into the crook of her elbow. Two, that the significance of her own words had caught up with her.  

 _Was there nothing she could keep to herself these days?_   

“That’s the deal…” Max sat down beside her. He looked pale. She could have kicked herself.  

“But how can you do this?”   

 _Crazy enough to do it_ once _. But to keep going back…?_  

“Not a choice…tried to leave lots of times. Can’t.”   

He shrugged, like he was making a confession.  

“Sorry…” she took his hand.  

“You should be…” He kissed the top of her head. “All your doing…”  

 _How can something feel so good and hurt so much at the same time?_   

It was absurd to be so shaken up…she'd almost lost him countless times on the Road. And vice versa.   

But that was different. When they were together, the adrenaline was like a drug. Fear and pain didn't seem so bad. If one got hurt, the other had their back and would deal it out five-fold on the perpetrator.   

 _This_   was a kind of sick anxiety that she hadn't experienced before. She couldn’t seem to get it out of her head, how close it’d been.  

How was she going to live with this feeling till the baby came? Wondering if he’d come back in one piece at the end of the day.  It  was going to drive her nuts.  

But, when he was properly up and about again, Max seemed more than happy to volunteer for more domestic work…repairs, training Pups, construction.   

Sometimes she had an uncanny feeling he could read her mind… 

**Author's Note:**

> The soundtrack to this chapter was brought to you by Bonobo. There are no lyrics to quote.  
> https://youtu.be/LMMLCwO8fWg
> 
> Not being a ballistics expert  or a  paramedic, the following were my sources of information:   
> https://library.med.utah.edu/WebPath/TUTORIAL/GUNS/GUNINTRO.html   
> http://www.orthobullets.com/trauma/1059/gun-shot-wounds   
> https://patient.info/doctor/gunshot-injuries  
> 
> The best way to get  shot, as far as I can see is as follows...  
> Perforating projectile : Penetrating (non-exiting) missiles deliver all their contained kinetic energy, while perforating (exiting) missiles transfer significantly less energy to tissues    
> Low velocity: A handgun, rather than a rifle. Shorter barrels, less range. But no hollow-tipped bullets, please   
> Yaw of 0 degrees at the point of impact: Yaw is decreased with longer distances of bullet travel, allowing a bullet to strike its target nose-on. So a ricochet would probably be bad for your health.  
> 
> Energy  transfer is not your friend. According to Bartlett CS, et al. (J Am Acad Orthop Surg. 2000), it depends on:   
> -amount of kinetic energy at impact   
> -stability  and entrance profile (yaw)   
> -calibre, construction and configuration of the bullet   
> -distance and path traveled within the body (penetrating vs perforating)   
> -biological characteristics of tissues impacted   
> -mechanism of tissue disruption (stretching, tearing, crushing).   
> 
> Complications of a gunshot wound to the neck may include cervical spine osteomyelitis (infection of spinal nerves and neck vertebrae) and vocal fold paresis (Godhi  et al, J Maxillofac Oral Surg. 2011 Mar; 10(1): 80–84).  
> 
> On a more literary note, Mary  Jabassa  quoted Lady  Delacour’s  advice to her daughter (Belinda, by Maria  Edgeworth). Nan is a cross between Lucy Maud Montgomery's Mary Vance and Louisa May Alcott's Nan the lady doctor.
> 
> Ps. It's kind of cheating, but I've gone back and edited a big chunk of 'Your Star will Shine'. It wanted a polish anyway.


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